Swan Song
by Stefan Rook
Summary: Walking a treacherous path is always harder when you don't have anyone to help you keep your balance. That was probably the reason she was so inclined to reach out to any hand outstretched her way. The rise of Ibuki Mioda began long after her fall began, and she was oblivious to the end. (Pre-SDR2)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the fanfiction itself.**

 **A/N: This story took a drastic turn from what I had originally intended, and while I'm still not entirely satisfied with how this chapter came out, I feel that it's at the best stage it can currently be right now. This story will have at least one more chapter, and it will all take place before SDR2. As always, thank you so much for reading and please leave a review!**

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People had always told Ibuki Mioda she was too much, and maybe they were right.

For as long as anyone else could remember, herself included, there had always been a gap between her and her classmates. They didn't avoid her per se, but none of them made any attempt to talk to her outside of class, and in some ways, that was worse than avoiding her. The only time they exchanged words was when they were randomly divided into groups to work on whatever tedious assignment the teacher had given them. Ibuki, a natural extrovert, would always rattle off whatever chain of topics came into her head to try and start a conversation, but no one ever replied with anything else aside from the occasional comment or grunt of approval. These kinds of social interactions, day in and day out, started to grate on her nerves and social skills equally.

The chatterbox was genuinely perplexed at what she was doing wrong. Was it her turn of phrase that put people off? Maybe her outrageous choice of style? Were her little idiosyncrasies, such as the way she referred to herself in third person for example, too quirky? Or maybe it was the gods themselves that were hell-bent on making her live her entire life in isolation? She certainly did feel like an outsider amongst the throngs of everyday life, but that couldn't be the sole reason. No, she already knew deep down what lied at the core of the issue.

She just wanted someone to talk to her as a friend.

Or, better yet, play music with her.

Oh god, how she wanted someone to play music with her! She had decided a long time ago that that was the one thing she wanted out of life. That is, if you excluded whatever albums her favorite artists released as well as extra guitars to smash and whatever else she impulsively desired.

Okay, so there were a lot of things she wanted out of life, but that one goal took priority over everything else.

Still, people were the one thing you couldn't walk into a store and buy, and that was quite the inconvenience. It was rather unfortunate that inconvenience stores didn't exist either; Ibuki had looked into that long ago to no avail. She couldn't call herself a band if it was just her, right? She needed to find somebody, anybody who was willing to not only spend time with her, but also match her taste in music (although she could work around that last requirement).

She wondered if that made her unique. Of course it did; nobody could deny that. But that made her a lot of other things too. It made her forgetful, lonely, and naturally, it caused her to feel despair. She may have known how to play a guitar or how to write a song, but for everything she knew how to do, there were five things she didn't. She didn't know how to stay quiet, how to interact normally with the rest of society, or how to put forth a professional image, just to name a few.

Despite those glaring flaws, the Light Music Club at her local high school, Shiba Academy, had begrudgingly allowed her to join, for not even they could deny that Ibuki Mioda possessed a special talent. The girls in the club had originally been skeptic of her musical skill as the guitarist strode into the audition room ever so casually, and those sentiments were bolstered when Ibuki handed in her application with the title "Goddess of Music" appended to the front.

" _Is this girl for real?"_ was the concurring opinion amongst the three music club members. However, the brief audition Ibuki graced them with had shattered any notions they might have had about her skills, or lack thereof.

Her vocals, her songwriting, her guitar skills; why, the eccentric rockstar had demonstrated herself to be the very paragon of musical prowess! Add that to the fact that she had been properly trained in music theory and possessed an optimal sense of hearing, and the other band members knew that they absolutely _had_ to admit her talents into the club.

Joy was not an accurate enough word to describe the feeling surging through the young guitarist's heart. In her eyes, all the silent torture she had withstood for the past sixteen years or so had now cultivated into something worth harvesting. Finally, her fingers would learn the warm sensation of another human being; they would no longer belong exclusively to the six, cold, stiff strings she was so well acquainted with, and that was okay. As she reached her hand out to meet the club leader's own, she could only think about the adventures they would have, the music they would make, and the conversations they'd have where someone would actually respond to her with more than one word. It was an overly optimistic stance, yet one that the idealistic guitarist had faith in; she would not let this opportunity go to waste.

And for a time, the four girls did exactly what Ibuki had hoped for and more. The other three members of the club (who she later learned were named Amisa, Sukia, and Taeko) had been kind enough to cater to her musical taste, so in return, she willingly played along with their pop-oriented songs as well; she still wasn't a fan of any of it, but she didn't want to feel the despair of being alone anymore. If sacrificing a small portion of her artistic integrity was all it took to guarantee camaraderie, then she'd do it. It's not like she was giving up heavy metal forever anyway, she reassured herself; as long as she could still keep playing her own brand of music, she was happy. Over the course of a year, the band jammed out, spent time together, and grew closer as a singular unit.

At least, that's how the young guitarist perceived it. The rest of the music club had never seen Ibuki Mioda as anything but extra baggage compared to what she possessed.

Was she talented? Absolutely.

In terms of instrumental skill, songwriting, and vocals, she outclassed them all, and that was exactly what they sought. Like leeches, they attached themselves to the musical prodigy and exploited her mastery for all it was worth. They sought purely self-advancement, how to improve their own image and prowess, sparing not even a second thought to the actual woman behind the guitar. They spoke and spent time with her only when necessary, but nothing more than that.

In a sense, it was as if nothing had changed at all. If Ibuki noticed their farce at any point, she made no effort to point it out; she could cope with this for now, she rationalized.

And she probably would have, if things had gone smoothly on that particular night.

December 25th was the day that Ibuki's destiny changed again. To most teenagers in Japan, that date marked the day that they could shake off the shackles of the education system for a few months until they would be forced back into their stuffy classrooms again.

For Ibuki however, it was the day her dreams would be either crushed or realized. It had long been an annual tradition, but this was the first time that Ibuki could officially participate in _that_ event.

Every year, on the same day that classes across Japan ended, without fail, the CEO of Tomatsu Records hosted a "Battle of The Bands" event, although with the money he had, it resembled something more like a gala. He willingly opened his mansion up as a stage to the competitors and extended invitations out to nearly every big media outlet in the nation. The grand prize at the end of the night was nothing short of a record deal, a worthy prize to be coveted. There was only one instituted caveat that all competitors had to comply with: all members had to be currently enrolled in high school. The decision to target such a specific age group was rumored to have been made largely in part to compete with the rising "idol group" market in the music industry, but no one could confirm or deny it.

Ibuki was currently fumbling with her guitar in one of the many rooms reserved for tonight's contestants. The mansion was massive enough to the extent where every band performing had been allotted an individual room to themselves, but currently, she was the only member of her band residing in theirs. The other girls were currently attending to their own errands, so she sat on a stool and practiced a couple of familiar chords, her hands naturally moving up and down the neck of the guitar. She wasn't focused on the redundant task of practice, which worked out perfectly since her thoughts kept drifting back to her bandmates in the end. She wondered what they were going to play tonight; they hadn't discussed it yet, but they still had an hour or so before showtime, so she wasn't too worried. She suddenly remembered, as if she had forgotten, that they had already established a reputation for themselves with their single, "After School Poyoyon Hour".

Her next note ended up producing an irritating, strident sound, causing the guitarist to reflexively retract her hand and recompose herself. Her irritation at remembering their first single had caused her to press too hard on the fret, a beginner mistake.

She promised herself it would not happen again.

She had been opposed to that damn single from the very beginning, but her bandmates had pleaded with her incessantly to contribute to the product. In the end, Ibuki did grace the recording with her guitar and vocals, but she had no fun doing so. In her mind, it reeked of pop and blatantly pandered to the ever so "illustrious" music critics. It wasn't just that one song either; they had practiced several original songs, all with pop undertones (and done maybe only two or three of Ibuki's own songs). If their goal had been to kiss up to the media, it had worked; they certainly did attract the attention of the music industry, granted not in the way she wanted to. All they had to do to seal the deal was perform well tonight and there would be no doubt that they'd win that record deal.

Her breathing became irregular, but she quickly amended it. The forceful throbbing in her chest was proof enough of her anxiety, but now was no time for cold feet. If worst came to worst on stage, she could improvise any of the metal songs in her repertoire and lead the others. She had to give it her all though, just like her friends would as well. As if on cue, the rest of her bandmates entered the room.

"Heyheyhey girls! Are you ready to dazzle the world?" Ibuki greeted them in her usual energetic manner. "What am I saying? It doesn't matter if you're set or not! Speaking of sets, Ibuki's genius has struck again! She-"

Before Ibuki could even finish her sentence, someone had pushed a sheet of paper at her face. Unable to speak without risking a paper cut, she slowly reached up and seized it from the other girl's grasp. Tracing the arm back to its owner, Ibuki realized that it belonged to Amisa, their other guitarist and also the oldest member in the band, currently in her junior year.

"That's the setlist for tonight," the rhythm guitarist bluntly announced. "Make sure your guitar's tuned right."

"Eh?!" Ibuki's expression changed to one of shock as the sheet hung limply in her hands. "Shouldn't we discuss this as a band?"

"We have," was the response from Taeko, the band's drummer, "and we decided that that's what we're doing tonight. Don't worry, it should be short enough for even you to remember."

That last sentence seemed to be dripping with venom, and Ibuki raised an eyebrow at her. She thought about inquiring further, but decided that reading the words in her hands was a better use of her time. She scanned through the page quickly until she reached the end. Her grasp on the sheet tightened, crinkling the edges as it dared to tear in her grip.

"Wh…what is this?" Ibuki choked out.

"It's what we're playing tonight. Come on, they're not hard to play," Sukia finally chimed in with her commentary. Ibuki turned to look at her in disbelief before returning her gaze to the paper in front of her.

There had to be a mistake. _This_ was what they were going to play?

The list was composed of no more than five songs, but they were all what Ibuki dreaded: pop songs. Never mind that they were all originals that she regrettably had a hand in making either; their opening number was supposed to be "After School Poyoyon Hour", something that she simply could not abide by. There was even a cover from that pop group led by Sayaka Maizono for god's sake! If this wasn't "selling out", the metalhead didn't know what to call it.

Her throat grew dry and her eye twitched as she realized what this spelled for her. She would begrudgingly play along to their tastes in their jam sessions, but here it was different; this was meant to be a showcase of what their band really was, not just another practice in some classroom. They were about to perform in front of nearly every media outlet in the country, and there would be no doubt as to how the music industry would react to them. They'd end up being tagged as one of the many other pop groups across the country.

No. The Goddess of Music was not about be shoved under the genre of fucking "pop music".

"I'm not playing this," She told her bandmates crudely.

A stifled laughter came from the bassist, Sukia. "Why not? It's not like you can't play it; you've done them so many times before! Or is the issue something else, I wonder?" She directed a malicious smirk towards the devil-horned girl, already knowing the answer.

"If we go out there and play this," Ibuki swallowed hard before continuing, "then I'd have to stop playing my music. We'd be marked as a pop band!"

"So?" Amisa gave her a quizzical glance in return. "This is for the sake of the band, Ibuki. We _need_ to get that record deal, no matter what. Those suits could give less of a shit about music; they're just looking for something that sounds catchy and will sell, and that's what we're going to give them."

"We're just playing the game on their terms," Taeko reaffirmed her superior's reasoning.

"But this isn't our music!" Ibuki yelled back and threw the setlist to the floor. "W-what about metal, or rock, or-or-or-?!" Her protests grew unnaturally raspy due to the strain on her unlubricated vocal cords.

Why _was_ her mouth so dry? She stole a quick glance at the vanity on the other side of the room and noticed a water bottle set atop the desk. Her legs carried her across the room, her mouth desperate for any kind of liquid. As she grabbed the plastic bottle and struggled to remove the cap, Amisa's next words materialized her fears.

"No, that's your music, Ibuki."

The girl stopped struggling with the bottle in her hand and froze. Trying to turn her head to make visual contact was a futile effort when her own body refused to cooperate, so she had to make do with only hearing her words.

"Look, let's just…cut to the chase, as they say: Did you honestly think you were one of us, even after an entire year? Your obsession with that trash you call 'music' was sooooo annoying for all of us, y'know? Yeah, we catered to you and all that, but like hell we're going to build a career off of that kind of noise! Oh, don't misunderstand, Ibuki- your guitar skill and singing voice are top-rate, but I really could do without seeing your ugly fucking face every day."

For the first time in her life, Ibuki Mioda cursed her excellent sense of hearing. She didn't want to hear this.

"Well, at least you managed to rub off some of that awesome talent on us. I mean, we don't actually _need_ you now, but…we're not that cruel. You can come along for the ride if you want to. Oh, but you'll have to get a makeover! We don't want people associating us with that fashion sense of yours. You understand, right?" Amisa flashed a smile that would have normally been received as warm and friendly.

Ibuki's neck finally craned around, allowing her to gape at Amisa and her bandmates. What the hell was she saying? Weren't they friends from the day she auditioned for the Light Music Club? They played together, sang together, ate cake together, done this and that together; what had she failed in doing? What part of their friendship "contract" did she fail to satisfy? Her mind initially thought that she must have misheard things, but she instantly knew that to be a lie: if there was anything that she could trust in this world, it was her ears. She really needed a drink now before her throat started shriveling up. She quickly opened the bottle and began drinking, although the liquid struggled to traverse her cramped throat.

It felt like her throat was being crushed.

Miraculously, the rockstar's voice found a way out, and after a minute or so of chugging, she wiped her mouth and spoke.

"…I understand."

She didn't understand.

"Excellent. So," Amisa glanced at a clock across the room, "we have about fifteen minutes until our set. Let's grab our stuff and head to the foyer so we can start on time."

The other two girls nodded and began to follow orders, pleased that things had gone so smoothly. Ibuki, on the other hand, felt hollow.

She thought she had finally found friends—bandmates, even! Now she was being told that she was worth _nothing_. That all their laughs and smiles had been nothing but a façade. Things were supposed to change in high school, weren't they? This sure looked a lot like the rest of her life, funnily enough. The small guitarist tried to convince herself to disregard their words, but her efforts provided little solace in the face of encroaching despair. Her bandmates had essentially exiled her from the band; they made it extremely clear that as long as she held onto her passion for metal and rock, there would be no place for her on stage. Was there nothing they saw in her?

Ibuki recalled that the girl had complimented her musical talent… But perhaps that would have been better left unsaid.

She strapped on her guitar and left the room, making her way towards the stage. In hindsight, it was rather insulting to call it "just" a stage; it was a battlefield on which dreams clashed. Countless musicians were vying for glory on that battlefield, and Ibuki was just another warrior in the midst of it. The guitar was her weapon of choice, and she could only hope that she wielded it better than anybody else. She knew she'd have to crush other people's dreams in order to get to hers; collateral damage, they called it, but she'd be damned if she was defeated by anybody else's hand but her own, which was exactly what she had in mind.

If everyone wanted a show from Ibuki, then Ibuki would give them one.

As she mulled over her plan, a bittersweet pang of emotion surged through both her body and soul, but it was quickly stifled under her inexplicable resolve. Her spirit and determination were in tatters, that much was true, but some other ethereal force compelled her legs to keep walking. Perhaps it was fate? Magic? Kismet? Or maybe, the gods were truly bestowing a gift unto her?

Well, if any gods were watching, they had best be shining down on her tonight; the tribulations of mortals are prime entertainment for divine beings.

Ibuki Mioda would commit rock 'n' roll suicide.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Was this worth the wait? Probably not.**

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It was a rubbish idea from the beginning, and Ibuki Mioda realized that too late.

Her little "stunt" resulted in nothing less than a broken guitar, an even more shattered spirit, and her being ejected from the manor. That was the sole reason why Ibuki was currently sat at one of the many dinner tables set outside on the front lawn. None of the other guests dared to stay in her general vicinity after seeing what she was capable of, so she happened to have six more empty tables surrounding her. If it hadn't been so ironically painful, she might have been tempted to indulge her child side and build a makeshift fort out of them.

Speaking of being a child, Ibuki almost wished she was old enough to get a drink from the open bar. She had heard that some adults drank to drown their sorrows; maybe it would work for her too? Not like she'd get a chance to find out anyway, since she was still a few years from reaching the legal age. She contented herself with the glass in her hands and kept staring at the tablecloth.

The events that transpired less than fifteen minutes ago kept replaying in her mind. Though she was looking at nothing but white linen, her eyes saw a different reality. She kept reconstructing the memory over and over, grabbing pieces from here and there to form a splotchy image.

Four girls climbed the stage. The leader introduced the band and got the general pleasantries out of the way so they could start playing. Ibuki tightened the grip on her pick, and…

That was all she really wanted to remember. Her past actions cut deep, especially since she knew there was zero chance for redemption. With any luck, she'd still be able to salvage a career from the shards of her shattered reputation tomorrow morning. Luck, however, was a fickle force, and there was no doubt that Fortuna was scowling down on her tonight. Still, it was just in Ibuki's nature to be optimistic, so she tried to find something positive amidst this entire fiasco.

 _Well… Once you hit rock bottom, the only way left to go is up, right? Then Ibuki will climb this mountain with all her might!_

Believing that her streak of misfortune was over, the eccentric guitarist mentally consoled herself as a man walked up to her seat.

Fate was being an arse tonight, it seemed.

Or perhaps this, too, was prophesized?

"Is this seat taken?" The gentleman asked as he pulled the chair adjacent to her out from under the table and took his seat, giving the rockstar zero time to respond. She figured that she should still say something to the man; she may have been glooming, but it didn't excuse any rude behavior.

"Oh! No, no, nobody's…using that seat…" She mumbled as she straightened her posture and took her face off the tablecloth to get a clear look at her new guest. The man was wearing a suit like most of the other critics here, so through the fantastical powers of cognitive reasoning, Ibuki concluded that he was one of them. He also sported a fedora, albeit faded, and a bit of facial hair; aside from that, there weren't any other defining features that made him stand out amongst the sea of suits here.

The guitarist quickly recognized the opportunity presented to her. Here was a music critic that was personally coming to talk to her even after her little debacle on stage. Was he not repulsed, or did he have some kind of sick fetish for disaster? It was nearly unheard of for a critic to personally go up and talk to a musician one-on-one at the Battle of The Bands, but it did happen occasionally. There was usually only one reason for such an encounter though: a proposition.

Yes, the spoils of luck were certainly flowing to Ibuki's side; all she had to do was press forward.

Ibuki's hands rushed to fix her hair, particularly her horns. She needed to look like she wasn't dying internally for at least five minutes. "I guess introductions are necessary, right? Alright, I-!"

"Oh, I already know your name," the man butted in, and with a warm smile no less. "I don't think anyone here will forget your name for quite a while."

Ibuki bit her tongue, mentally face palming at her blunder. This conversation was not off to a good start. Luckily, the young man continued the conversation for her.

"You're pretty brave to do something like that, you know. I realize what you were trying to pull in there, but you're really something else! Although, I really should be used to this kind of thing by now."

Ibuki's jaw tightened as she heard his words.

 _Wh-what was I "pulling"? All Ibuki did was act on instinct as always—that's the only way to play music, right?!_ _I mean, Ibuki was doing what was best for her! We didn't mesh well together anyway, and if bandmates don't mesh well together, then-!_

She felt a small twinge as she tried to justify her actions. Maybe throwing her bandmates under the bus hadn't been as good an idea as it had originally appeared to be, but she couldn't take back what she'd done. How could she apologize for something like that?

"I-I-Ibuki knows what you're going to say, and the network probably already censored her out, but she's got something she wants to s-" Ibuki stammered out nervously as she tried to think of a way to explain her—even she could admit—childish actions, but the blonde man appeared to be making it a habit to interrupt her. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, stopping her train of thought, and made eye contact. She stared back unwillingly, and to her surprise, she found no malice or strictness in his cerulean gaze. In fact, it lacked everything Ibuki expected to see; she expected to be lectured, much like a parent might do to a child.

"Hey, you don't have to pretend," he spoke sternly and slowly, "I could see the whole picture from down there, y'know? You're not happy with your band, are you?"

Ibuki stared for a bit longer until she realized he was waiting for a response. Her voice refused to emerge from her mouth due to some unknown reason, but she slowly nodded her head to let him know that she was listening.

"That's why you decided to pull the rug out from under them and steal the show for yourself, right?"

She nodded again.

"Did your bandmates know of your plan?"

She shook her head.

The man let out a large sigh and adjusted his fedora, although Ibuki couldn't see anything wrong with it from where she was sitting. "Well, I get tired of having to do this every time but if I don't, the committee will get on my back."

He reached inside his jacket and proceeded to pull out what appeared to be a small envelope. While his intentions were to hand it over to the young girl, he stared at it warily, deep in thought. His eyebrows scrunched up and he quickly shoved it back into his pocket.

"Actually, we need to discuss your circumstances first; formalities and such, you know how it is," the man waved a hand dismissively as if to clear the tension in the air. Ibuki was still at a lost: she had no idea what the circumstances were, what the envelope was, or what this man actually wanted with her. "Let's go over the incident from the beginning, how about that? I feel that this would be a good way for you to understand the situation from my point of view."

This certainly did not appear to bode well for the talented guitarist. Ibuki was already fidgeting in her seat and scraping her nails against her chair at the mere thought of what he might say. The suited man looked for no sign to continue (or not) before he began retelling the story.

"You and your bandmates got on that stage at around 10:30. Hey, wasn't your rival band playing right before you four? If I remember correctly, the Black Cherries was their name. They were okay. Not the kind of thing I'd listen to on my free time, but I can understand the appeal. Like I was saying, you guys went up on stage and set up your equipment around that time and your leader began speaking to the crowd as per customs. She had a pretty soothing and mature voice for a girl her age, don't you think? I actually thought she was going to be the vocalist for your band at first, but then-"

" _Stop!_ " Ibuki's core shook with spite as she spat out thoughtless words. "Just stop! I was in there too! I know what happened! What do you want!? Are you just some jerk who wants to make Ibuki feel even worse?!" This guy had already been getting on her nerves, but he was crossing a dangerous line right now with his persistence. She had no desire to re-live the pain she felt in there any time soon. She had had just about enough of it tonight—of critics, of music, of the record deal, of her bandmates—and was about to kick him to the curb until the man put his hands up in a harmless manner.

"Hey, hey, hold on. You ruined _their_ chances; we haven't begun talking about yours."

That definitely caught the girl's attention and, for now, was the only thing that kept her butt in the chair. Was she wrong in assuming that this man was just another suit? For the first time tonight, genuine fear flooded her heart. For someone as idiosyncratic as Ibuki Mioda, to be stupefied at this turn of events…

In all honesty, she had no idea what to expect from the man now.

"I'm not daft, despite whatever impression you may have of me," the man let out a small laugh, utterly disregarding the current atmosphere, "and I know exactly what you were thinking. You wanted to tell the world who you were, so you took the only opportunity you had on stage to do just that." He glanced at the girl, and noticed her body language confirmed his theory. He nodded solemnly before his expression was suddenly replaced with a warm smile.

"Then it looks like you just made a fantastic decision!"

Huh?

"I can't say I'm a fan of your music either, but you definitely got the flair and talent we look for."

Huh? Huh?

"Don't worry about trying to figure it out; I have an eye for this sort of thing, so just trust me, mkay?"

Huh? Huh? Huh?

Ibuki was floored at this turn of events (how many times was that in the past few hours?). She raised an uncertain finger and stuttered, "W-What are you talking about? I-Ibuki's completely in the dark here!"

"I can't speak for the correctness of your actions, but there is something I can give you," the man replied as he reached back inside his jacket and pulled out the same white envelope from earlier, sliding it across the table towards her. While her apprehensive gaze alternated between the man and the envelope, she raised a tentative hand onto the table and grabbed the latter. On the immediate side, there was nothing that identified the letter inside; it was a blank side with absolutely nothing. Logic would dictate that she had to turn it around to acquire any sort of information.

As she turned the envelope to the other side, she realized that that had been the first time all night the man hadn't interrupted her.

On the flipside of the envelope, she found herself face-to-face with a black-and-white stamp that sealed the letter inside. At first glance, it may have looked like a regular seal to contain the document, yet the emblem was anything but regular. It depicted a shield emblazoned with a crossing fountain pen and thunderbolt, surrounded by wings on both sides, and adorned with a regal crown resting atop it all. Anyone who lived in Japan should recognized that symbol, and Ibuki Mioda was no exception to it; it only ranked second to the Hinomaru when it came to being a national symbol.

It was the crest of Hope's Peak Academy.

Her fingers rubbed the glossy stamp, as if she could have verified its authenticity with such a simple test. She examined the tips of her fingers and found them to be entirely clean of any foreign substances.

Nope, this letter was the real thing.

"N-No way! This is from Hope's Peak Academy, right?!" She asked the man excitedly. It was an asinine question, but when one is presented with such a rare object, instincts naturally take over.

The man's features softened, and he gave the girl a warm smile. "That's correct, and it's for you," he gestured a hand towards her.

"Whu…..what? WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?!" Ibuki shrieked.

"H-Hey, quiet down!" The man shushed her almost too forcibly, almost as if he was hiding a secret. His voice came out as sharp whisper. "Don't make so much noise! Technically, I'm not supposed to be here, so keep it on the down-low, okay?"

"Gotcha! You can count on Ibuki!" The girl lowered her volume by about one tenth of a fraction, much to the man's dismay. A sudden realization swept over Ibuki's thoughts. "But…um, how come you're not allowed to be here?"

"Technically, Hope's Peak Academy doesn't fall under 'members of the press', so no staff members are allowed here; I think Tomatsu's afraid we might steal some of their talent , too, so they take extra precautions. I wouldn't normally come to this sort of thing, but Jin asked me to check it out…and the year before this…and the year before that…how long have I...?" He appeared to be trying to remember something until Ibuki interrupted his mental flow.

"Jin?"

"He's the headmaster of Hope's Peak Academy. You'll see him at your opening ceremony," The man quickly explained. "Now, there's still a lot to discuss about your admission process. You are _accepting_ , right?"

Ibuki didn't have to stop and think about this decision. She didn't necessarily have much of a choice, considering the events of the past twenty-four hours. Regardless of that, you'd have to be stupid to turn down an invitation for Hope's Peak Academy. She'd be set for life after graduation, and more importantly, she would meet other Ultimates; maybe there would be an Ultimate Drummer, or an Ultimate Bass Player? Her heart nearly burst out of her chest from imagining the possibilities.

She would be able to start anew. The full implications of the invitiation began to dawn on Ibuki Mioda; this was a very real and feasible opportunity to revamp her life, and perhaps this time around, she'd make friends; real friends that could fill the vacant hole in her heart.

"Uh, DUH _!_ Ibuki says yes! Yes, yes, yes to everything!" Ibuki proclaimed, accentuating each 'yes' with a fist slamming down on the table, utterly disregarding his earlier warning about her volume. "Just tell Ibuki where to sign!"

"You don't have to sign anything. Just show up at Hope's Peak on the first day of classes and we'll take care of registering you into the system," the man said while rubbing at his ear to make sure it still functioned properly. "I think 'Ultimate Musician' would be a fitting title for you, wouldn't you think so, Ms. Mioda?"

The man from Hope's Peak outstretched his hand towards her to cement their agreement. He was looking for a handshake, the universal action to symbolize agreement, and Ibuki kindly reciprocated, her pale, garbed hand contrasting the man's fairer skin tone.

"H-Hey, wait a minute! You never gave Ibuki your name!" The newly dubbed Ultimate Musician pouted like a small child, feeling duped.

"Oh, I didn't? Let me fix that right now then," the man retracted his hand and reached into another one of his pockets, fishing out a small, white, rectangular card. He handed it over to the girl, who soon recognized it to be a business card.

"The name's Koichi Kizakura. I'm a talent scout for Hope's Peak Academy. Now, there's a few more things I need to tell you about being admitted into Hope's Peak…"

The next hour passed by quickly as Kizakura explained the facilities, rules of conduct, and other supplemental information required for all new students. Ibuki interjected every now and then with her own questions, although they were usually just little comments that flowed into her mind. Truthfully, most of his words flowed in one ear and out the other; Ibuki was too wrapped up in her imagination to be bothered with all the boring technical stuff for Hope's Peak.

 _Ibuki Mioda, Goddess of Music, Ultimate Musician… I like it!_

And so, as the night grew older, the young girl gradually learned to smile again, and in time, it outgrew the moon's own.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, that took unusually long to write. My apologies for wasting too much time playing videogames and being productive (but not at the same time of course). One more chapter should just about wrap this story up, and then it's back to the drawing board. As always, thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


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